


Aches and Pains

by Bumocusal, isangelousdenim



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Possession, Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Character Study, Coping, Cover Art, Cute Ending, Drowning, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Holding Hands, Hopeful Ending, Hugs, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, One Shot, Sappy Castiel, Season/Series 14 Speculation, Short One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-10-11 23:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17456750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumocusal/pseuds/Bumocusal, https://archiveofourown.org/users/isangelousdenim/pseuds/isangelousdenim
Summary: Dealing with the emotional aftermath of Michael's possession is harder than Dean expected.Thankfully, Castiel is there to relieve those aches and pains."Are you okay?"Looking down at his pruny fingers, Dean sighed, "I hate that question.""Why?" Castiel leaned against the far wall."Because I don't know the answer."Castiel squinted at him, considering, "I thought you were supposed to lie. Isn't that what humans usually do?""Cas," Dean sank deeper, "Before you walked in, I was considering drowning myself."





	Aches and Pains

**Author's Note:**

> had this one sitting in my drafts for way too long  
> also, w00t! first fic of 2019 in the bag—even though I technically wrote it last year!  
> this was written pre-14x10 (AKA Nihilism). 
> 
> PS no beta, but Leo did some pretty nice cover art

 

One of the best amenities in the bunker, excluding the kickass garage and shoulder-deep copper sink, is the communal bathroom—it looks kinda like those high school locker rooms Dean took showers in because backwater motels weren’t exactly renowned for clean water—the water pressure is heavenly, the heating is connected to the floor for those extremely chilly mornings, and there's an under-mount tub behind the toilets.

It’s one of the first tubs Dean’s almost been able to submerge completely in, his six-foot body making typical tub experiences a battle of freezing air and dry knees. And the faucet was nice, too, a detachable hose similar to a sink rincer. With nicely grouted tiles along the base, a tapered apron, waxy candles set up on the under-mount: This wasn't your average builder's bathtub.

And Dean had become addicted to soaking.

Sometime after Michael, Dean still felt wrong in his own body. When possessed by demons, the acidic aftertaste in his mouth eventually faded. When he was turned into a vampire, it was natural to go back to life without fangs and bloodthirst. When he was a demon himself, the only thing that really felt jarring was the mark.

But being possessed by an angel, and then being released—his bones ached like his joints were scraped together without any fluid, his shin splints, his fingers seized up like some extremely unusual arthritis, his muscles spasming with calf Charley horses and a tense neck. Castiel suggested it was the grace previously pouring through him, similar to how Raphael's vessel had been left just bodily.

Another part had been the loss of drowning. When Michael had control, Dean was submerged constantly. Like he was constantly suffocating inside his own body. In a deprivation tank that was strapped on the back of a comet. He craved that feeling now, as sick and suicidal as that sounded. Like when the mark was gone, he craved the power it gave. When his vampirism was taken, he missed the bloodthirsty excuse. When he was cured of being a demon, he desired the lack of emotions. And now, even though he was finally free of Michael, he felt like half of him had been ripped in half.

They _were_ two parts made whole; Dean in the depths of his own ocean. Now, he's landbound.

So in an attempt to get at least one good night sleep before he died, ironically, of sleep depravity—Dean slinked into Sam’s room and asked for some Epsom salts and permission to use the Sasquatches plain oatmeal. Obviously still in his “anything you want, Dean” phase of worry, Sam even ran the initial bath for him.

It was blissful, honestly. As if every part of his body was being magic-finger-massaged by hot water, Dean nearly fell asleep like that: nose making bubbles from how close it dipped towards the water, freckled shoulders littered with streaming water droplets, and a bunch of oatmeal sticking to his skin after he got out of the bath.

Seriously, for the next twenty minutes, he was floating on cloud nine. He slept like a rock that night, bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning with a pension for actual breakfast for once. Sam didn’t even complain when he was fed greasy bacon, cheesy scrambled eggs, and a stack of gooey syrupy pancakes instead of his grass smoothies.

So, it became a nightly thing. And by the third week, Dean had ordered bath bombs and oils. Sinking into the water, soaking his muscles, popping his joints. . . it was very cathartic. He went into this trance-like state, almost meditating but sorta sleeping. 

And that's his excuse as to why he didn't call out when a shower started up in the "locker room" portion of the communal bathroom. It could've been Sam, Jack, mom, Bobby, or Charlie. He was a little too relaxed to really worry about it, craning his head further into the soapy bubbles. Besides, anyone with half a brain could've put two and two together: Dean had a bathtime routine, the heater was on, and the section closing off the tub was shut. It would be pretty hard _not_ to notice. So, when the footsteps echoed loud enough to snap him out of his daze, Dean really perked up.

It was Castiel who creaked open the door, head peaking in the tub room.

Castiel was beautiful, really. Dean had always thought so. He walked gracefully around the bunker, like a soaring bird, head held high with a long neck and squared shoulders. His trench coat combo wasn't worn as much as before, only when he went outside or wanted to dress up. He usually just settled into a pair of tight denim jeans, a band T-shirt pulled tightly over his broad chest and draping at his tapered waist. But now, with only a white towel secured around his waist, Castiel was a tan muscular dreamboat—nothing like the pale little guy the angel had been. Even Dean, barely keeping his head above water, could appreciate the angel's appeal.

"Dean? You've been in here for a few hours. We were getting worried," Castiel said softly.

"You mean _Sam_ was getting worried," Dean guessed.

Castiel shut the door behind him, realizing he was letting the natural steam and heat out. 

"Are you okay?"

Looking down at his pruny fingers, Dean sighed, "I hate that question."

"Why?" Castiel leaned against the far wall.

"Because I don't know the answer."

Castiel squinted at him, considering, "I thought you were supposed to lie. Isn't that what humans usually do?"

"Cas," Dean sank deeper, "Before you walked in, I was considering drowning myself."

It was quiet for a few seconds.

Sparing a glance at Castiel, Dean sucked air in through his teeth at the tears rolling down the angel's cheeks. He didn't look alarmed, simply sad. Dean rested his head on the edge of the tub, looking at Castiel sleepily yet confused. At any moment he could just slip under the water and regain that feeling: breathless, weightless, no control. But with Castiel looking at him, meeting his eyes with a solemn gaze, the angel grounded him in this unmovable moment. 

"You want to kill yourself?" Castiel wiped away a stray droplet.

Dean looked away, ashamed.

Maybe he _should've_ just lied. It would've been easier than this.

"I don't know. I just—Mikey really fucked me up, dude. I don't want to die. But I don't want to live either, y'know? I just. . . how did Sam do it for so long? How did he regain control? How did you handle Lucy for so long? Why am I so weak, Cas? I'm just a pathetic, frail, piss-ant excuse of a vessel. And if I could, I'd accept Michael right back in because I miss it. I miss the drowning." 

Castiel spoke then, standing up straight and walking closer to the tub determinedly, "That's okay. If that's how you feel, I'm not going to judge you. I know how addictive the power of an archangel is. Lucifer's grace is still left in my body like a cancerous tumor just thrumming with untapped power. So if you miss being possessed, that's fine. However, you deal with the circumstances is fine. Don't ever feel guilty or apologetic. Just _please_ promise me if you ever slip underwater, you'll come up."

Dean reached out, connecting their palms, "Of course."  

"I admire you, Dean," Castiel rubbed his thumb along Dean's. 

"Ditto," Dean watched a smile light up Castiel's features.

"I'm not Demi Moore," Castiel announced, pulling Dean up as he leaned back.

Dean got out of the tub, already feeling heavier than before. But he didn't focus on that. Instead, he wrapped a fuzzy pink (formerly white before Sam got his grubby "whites and colors can be washed together" hands on it) towel around himself and grinned back at a bashful Castiel. He tightened the terry cloth material around his waist, before snarking off, "So you're Whoopi?"

"I'm obviously Patrick Swayze," Castiel commented.

"Oh yeah?" Dean snorted, swaying closer into the angel's space. "How'd you figure?"

"You think we're both hot," Castiel smiled.

Dean audibly gasped, "You little shit."

"I'll be your life jacket, Dean," Castiel said, pulling him into a hug. "If you ever find yourself sinking to the bottom, I'll float you up."

"Fuck you. That's _too_ cheesy," Dean rolled his eyes but couldn't help smiling. When they both went silent, falling into a peaceful lull, the only sound that could be heard was the rushing rumble of the running shower Castiel had abandoned. Dean, confidence building slowly, caught Castiel's eye and said, "Maybe you should stop wasting water and join me in the bath."

"Okay," Castiel hopped up and ran to the other room eagerly. 

Dean couldn't stop laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> (If you want to message me any prompts or just talk, my twitter is @ImpalaLostiel - I might even tweet about future fics!)
> 
> Comment, kudos, and bookmark! I appreciate the feedback.


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